Back for Good
by SylvieT
Summary: I owe Grissom a little happiness. Here it is. A reunion for Grissom and the team set toward the end of season 10. No spoilers. Just wishful thinking on my part. GSR.


A/N: For Dhila, who gave me prompts for this. She loves fluff, me not so much. I prefer angst. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to include any of her prompt words or the Disney line BUT I did manage to have GSR fluff and no CD AND I included a famous song line. Does that count?

I hope you all like it. Let me know in a review. :-)

* * *

"Come on, buddy. Quit digging my flowerbeds."

Sara flicked her water-soaked sponge at Hank and the boxer quickly disappeared, tail wagging cheerfully in his wake. She laughed her whole face lighting up with carefree bliss, shook her head at the dog and threw the soapy sponge back in the bucket, foamy water splashing out onto her already sodden Reeboks. She took a few steps back, wiped her brow with the back of her hand and rolled her shoulders a couple of times, slowly working the kinks of her sore neck.

She wore high-cut shorts, an old pair of blue jeans she had redesigned, frayed at the hem that seemed to elongate her already long, tanned shapely legs. She also wore a red baggy tank top, one she'd wear only at home when doing chores, with a scoop neckline which plunged just above the curve of her breasts and exposed her bare left shoulder. No bra. Her long hair was held back in a loose ponytail, a few stray curls fluttering in the warm breeze and one strand permanently caught in the corner of her mouth.

She glanced at Hank now happily foraging in the bushes adjoining next door's property, looking for God knows what, some long-time buried treasure most probably. Then she slowly bent down to pick up the hosepipe. She turned the nozzle on full and directed the spray of the water onto her husband's soon-to-be-gleaming Mercedes. She took care to hose down everywhere, every inch of soapy surface, bending to rinse under the wheel arches, stretching her long, sun kissed body teasingly.

For there was no doubt about it; Sara knew she was being watched.

After the thorough rinse-off, she took the chamois leather sticking out of her back pocket and began wiping the car dry; slow, languid moves as she stroked and caressed and slowly polished the car to a brilliant shine. She stretched right up on her tiptoes, enhancing the perfect definition of her calf muscles to reach the hard-to-reach middle spot of the roof. Then she bent down low as she drew great, big circles drying every inch of the car's outer sills.

When she was finally done, she stood back, hands pressing against her lower back, her small, perfectly formed breasts jutting forward through her slightly damp top, showing off pert nipples, and she took a moment to admire her handiwork. She ran her hand lovingly over the car's pure Teutonic lines and smiled proudly.

A job well done. Grissom would be proud.

She was picking up the hose pipe to reel in when the gentle beeping of a car horn jolted her. She turned, straightening up and brought her hand up to her face, shielding her eyes from the mid-afternoon sun. Hank came bounding out of his hiding spot onto the sidewalk and barked happily at the truck. The grin on Sara's lips was wide as she waved at the first one of their guests as he parked at the curb.

He was early. Sara looked down at herself self-consciously, straightened her top and pulled her shorts legs down, wishing she had time to go change.

The man deftly jumped out of the truck carrying a six-pack, beeped it shut and kneeled down to acknowledge Hank and give him a good rub around the ears.

"I swear he's getting bigger every time," Nick said with a grin as he pushed the dog's overly-affectionate licks off his face.

"It's all that French food," Sara replied, giggling. "It's had the same effect on Grissom."

Nick joined Sara and wrapped an arm around her in greeting. "Shouldn't your husband be doing that?" he asked with an arch of his brow and a nod to the bucket as he released her. He removed the Ray-bans covering his eyes and flashed a cheeky grin.

"I won the bet." Sara laughed and winked merrily. "He's in the _kitchen_," she said loudly so as to be overheard through the open window.

Nick chuckled and shook his head in bemusement. "I don't want to know," he said, catching a glimpse of Grissom coming out of the house and creeping up on Sara. The latter put his index finger over his mouth and Nick smiled returning his gaze on Sara. "Want a hand putting this away?" he asked.

Grissom, stealth-like, wrapped his arms around Sara's shoulders from behind, making her yelp in delighted surprise. He acknowledged Nick with a wide, carefree grin and buried his face in her neck.

Sara leaned back into his embrace, snuggling against him, her grin blissful. He pressed chaste lips to the soft spot below her ear and whispered something. The vibration of his lips on her warm skin sent tremors down her spine and she suppressed a shiver. Then she blushed at the words he was still murmuring in her ear, her cheeks turning a healthy shade of rose, her nipples hardening instinctively. Mortified by her reaction, she glanced at Nick before averting her gaze to the ground.

His ministrations finished, Grissom, in the meantime, had gently pushed apart and taken a few steps toward Nick extending his hand jovially.

Nick shook the proffered hand warmly and Grissom tugged his arm, pulling the Texan over, clapping his hand over his shoulder. "Thanks for coming, Nicky," he said. "It's been a while."

"A while? I wouldn't call a year and a half a while," Nick replied laughing. "You back for good?"

"It would appear so," Grissom replied with a wink to Sara.

Still in shock, Sara eyed him suspiciously. The mischievous smile he flashed in her direction didn't bode well. He had something up his sleeve, she could tell and it wasn't what he had mentioned in her ear.

"You missed a spot," he whispered loudly leaning toward her, jolting out of her daydream.

Sara turned and stared at the car. "Where?" she inquired impatiently, her hand already reaching for the sponge in the bucket. She leaned over, peering at the side of the car against the sunlight, her whole face scrunched into a deep frown.

Grissom dipped his finger in the bucket's soapy water and brushed it against her cheek. "There," he said.

Sara turned round abruptly, lifted the dripping sponge and flicked it in his direction, drenching both him and Nick in the same movement. Grissom's eyes widened in delight and he deftly ducked out of the way, bending down to pick up the hose pipe. He aimed it square in Sara's direction and arched his brow challengingly.

"Oh, you wouldn't dare," Sara had just time to utter before Grissom twisted the nozzle open and doused her with a steady stream of tepid water.

Nick was laughing heartily. He set the beer down on the ground and moved behind Grissom, supporting the hose as if they were two fire fighters battling a raging fire. They slowly moved forward in unison toward Sara who, with a squeal of delight, quickly took shelter behind the gleaming Mercedes.

The stern voice of Catherine cut the fooling around short. "Grissom!" she barked. Grissom froze, immediately turning the hose off. He looked contrite for all of two seconds and then with a quick backward glance and nod at Nick, once more lifted the hose in front of him, this time aiming it square at Catherine.

Nick's eyes widened in fear as he realised what Grissom was up to and he shook his head. "This is more than my life's worth, Griss," the Texan laughed. "Are you sure about this?"

"Come on, Nick. Live a little," came Grissom's joyful reply.

"All right," Nick said, ignoring Catherine's mock glare.

Grissom winked mischievously at Catherine and then twisted the end of the hosepipe back on. His movement were deliberately slow. Overdramatically so.

Recognising the glint in her old boss's eyes, Catherine had already run for cover, joining Sara cowering behind the car. She took a moment to catch her breath. "That's two against two," she called with laughter.

Sara piped in, "And we all know that…TWO SHARP WOMEN ARE BETTER THAN ONE," they both finished in unison.

Grissom and Nick began to advance unhurriedly, walking round the front of the car, pulling at the hose. When they reached the other side, the water's stream slowed and then petered out completely. Grissom frowned and looked at the hose pipe. Then he turned toward Nick. "We must have a kink somewhere," he said. "We've lost pressure."

Nick turned and shook his head. "I can't see anything," he said.

Grissom leaned back to check the connection with the faucet. He jumped in surprise when he saw Brass standing against the house, his arms and legs folded casually. He was looking far too smug and innocent for Grissom's liking. Shaking his head at Brass, he shouted, "Come on, Jim, don't be a chicken. Join our side."

"I know better than to take sides Gil," Brass replied with a chuckle. "Especially against these two."

"Spoilsport," Nick piped in.

All eyes suddenly turned to the street as they heard a car pull up at the curb on the other side. Smiling, Sara and Catherine came out from behind the Mercedes, Brass joining them.

Mesmerised by what was happening across the way, Grissom dropped the hose. He watched, eyes wide with wonder as Greg reached into the rear of the car, unstrapped a young child from his car seat before settling him on his hip. Greg glanced across at his friends and smiled, waving. He pointed in Grissom's direction, saying a few words to the little boy and began crossing the street.

Grissom turned wide eyes toward Sara. "Did you know about this?" he asked, his voice choked with emotion.

Sara smiled and shrugged a shoulder. She joined her husband's side and put her arm around him. "Tina's been very good about letting us see him and…"

"Thank you."

Grissom made to move toward Greg but stopped in hesitation. Sara lowered her arm to her side and gently pushed him forward toward the little boy. Grissom smiled hesitantly, gazing into Eli's deep green eyes and took a few shy steps forward. "Hello," he said quietly. "I'm Gil. I'm an old friend of your daddy's."

Greg said something in Eli's ear and the boy nodded. He watched Grissom suspiciously for a moment and then beamed a big smile. "E-li," he said hesitantly.

Grissom beamed at the boy. "That's right," he said reaching out to shake his hand. "Nice to meet you again, Eli." He quickly wiped the corner of his eyes, hiding his emotion and looked at Sara uncertainly.

She smiled. "Eli," she said, "do you want to give Uncle Gil a big hug?"

Eli seemed to think about it and then opened his arms out to Grissom.

* * *

"Leave all that," Sara told Grissom with a glance over her shoulder. The last of their guests had finally left, their stomachs full of beer and expertly-tossed crêpes – Suzette for Sara, lemon for Catherine, with Grand Marnier for the men and topped with hot chocolate sauce and a dollop of Chantilly cream for Greg and Eli. Grissom was gathering empty plates, glasses and bottles, stacking them neatly onto the kitchen island. "We can do it tomorrow," she then added.

Sara was stood at the open patio doors, gazing upward toward the dark, starry night. Her lips twitched into a longing smile as he joined her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He rested his chin on her right shoulder, smiling as he too gazed at the stars. They were silent, basking in the moonlight, each to their own thoughts when Grissom whispered. "Thank you." Sara smiled and turned her head toward her husband. "Thank you for today. It was special. It felt like Warrick was still with us."

"He is. A little bit of him lives on through Eli."

Grissom nodded as he pondered that thought.

After a while, Sara giggled breaking the silence. "What was most enjoyable?" she asked quietly. "Seeing Eli after all this time or ogling me while I was cleaning your car?"

Grissom snorted. "God, you make me sound like a right perverted old man." He shook his head in amusement. "It's the hair, isn't it?"

Sara laughed quietly but very wisely, chose not to reply. She leaned a bit more into him, rubbing her cheek against his chin. "I'd quote Lady Marmalade's words back at you but-"

"I prefer Christina's version myself," he whispered in her ear as he dropped his mouth to the soft spot just below. "Dirtier."

Sara repressed a shiver of excitement. "But," she went on nuzzling her head into him, "I never had time to grab a shower this afternoon and I'm feeling rather grubby." She slowly turned her face to his cheek and purred teasingly, "Voulez-vous _vous doucher_ avec moi, ce soir?"

Grissom arched his brow and then chuckled. Unable to resist her when she spoke French to him, he took a few steps back, releasing his hold of her. He turned her round, slipped his hands underneath her red, baggy tank top, softly trailing them up her sides, stopping to caress the curve of her bare breasts before pulling the top over her head.

She stood silhouetted against the moonlight, a heavenly vision. She smiled a little shyly and hooked a finger into the waistband of his jeans, tugging him back toward her.

Grissom bent low at the knees and scooped her up in his arms, headed straight for the bathroom.

* * *

The end.

* * *

A/N: The original words of Lady Marmalade's song, covered by Christina Aguilera and co, are: Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir? – Do you want to sleep with me tonight?

For the story, I changed the words to: Voulez-vous _vous doucher_ avec moi, ce soir? – Do you want to shower with me tonight?


End file.
